Burned by the Darkness
by artemis lecter
Summary: Takes place during the episode "Crush." What if Spike had turned Buffy at the end of the episode? Spike/Buffy. Rated for language and mature content.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters.

Author's Note: I'm back! I've been working on this one for a couple of years so I figured I would post it now. Rated M for mature content and language. As always, I thrive on your reviews. Enjoy!

* * *

Spike stepped back to admire her, chained to the wall and looking peaceful in unconsciousness. She would put up a fight when she woke, that much he was sure of. But to look upon her now, with no worried creases in her brow and her lips not turned down into a frown, he felt certain that he was making the right decision. He had to have her.

He glanced over at Drusilla's limp form. Once, restraining her would have held some sort of pleasure for him. Now, he looked at her with something resembling disdain. She had never cared for him. He was her plaything, an object with which she amused herself. Her little stunts with Angelus after their relocation to Sunnydale were proof of that. She was nothing to him now.

He turned to look at Buffy again, and smiled. This woman meant everything to him. A small part of him loathed her for the feeling she stirred in him, stronger than anything he had ever felt for his sire. He was finished burying his feelings for her; she had to know what she meant to him. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. _Now, to get her to see that_. He was confident that he could.

Drusilla stirred awake, blinking slowly in an attempt to regain her bearings. Her eyes narrowed to slits when she saw the cold metal restraints around her wrists. She glared at Spike.

"Bad boy," she pouted. Spike shrugged, disinterested.

He moved to the side of the large basement room, sitting down in a chair there to wait out Buffy's unconsciousness _. Any time now._

The first sign of her awakening, several minutes later, was a soft groan. She slowly opened her eyes, taking in the scene around her. She looked slightly afraid. Spike winced. Not a reaction he wanted from her; she needed to see that he wasn't a threat to her. The time for bravado and putting on a dangerous front was long over—they both knew he wouldn't hurt her.

"It's okay, love," he said softly, approaching her as he might approach a spooked animal. "You'll be alright. I won't hurt you."

She sneered at him. "You couldn't if you tried." He loved that fire inside her. It was what made her so special. That fierce determination.

"Now let me go," she growled out between clenched teeth. Spike chuckled.

"Don't think that's such a good idea, pet. Besides, I think you need to hear me out." He saw Buffy's eyes flick over to Drusilla, and noted the slightly confused expression at the sight of his former love chained as she was. Good. Maybe she'd listen a little better to him, knowing he would not allow Drusilla to harm her.

He reached out his fingertips to lightly graze her cheekbone. She flinched a bit, but could not back away. He held his hand there for a moment, marveling at the softness of her skin. He could smell her; she wore a little perfume, and lavender-scented shampoo enveloped her golden tresses, but her natural scent was more appealing. He could almost taste the sweetness of her blood.

"I love you," he said quietly, being sure to make eye contact. She looked away angrily, but Spike could see the blush forming on her cheeks. He took her chin in his hand and gently turned her face back to him. "Look at me."

She grudgingly looked back at him. Her eyes were startlingly pretty, though they were partially distorted with obvious disgust. Even with that look on her face, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"I do. I love you. I'd do anything for you. **Be** anything for you." He could see the look on her face soften slightly at his words. His heart lifted. It was a start. He sounded like a lovesick poet, but it was worth it if he could get her to listen to him.

"You're a vampire. Vampires don't love." He could hear the hardness in her voice. He wasn't sure if she didn't want him, or if she was afraid of him. Of getting hurt. He leaned in and breathed in her scent. He suddenly got an idea.

Daringly, he leaned into her neck and gently nuzzled it, feeling her flinch away from him. When she stilled, he placed a gentle kiss just above her jugular, hearing the way her blood hummed in her veins. He parted his lips slightly and sucked the skin right over her pulse. Instantly he smelled her arousal. _Not that she doesn't want me, then_. He pulled back, smirking. By the look on her face, she could tell what he had done. Her blush intensified. She looked furious with herself.

"What do you want, Spike?" she growled, glaring up at him again despite her obvious embarrassment. He looked at her as though the answer should be obvious.

"You. I want you."

Buffy glanced away. Spike could hear Drusilla's mad ramblings behind him, ranting about how she knew he was in love with the Slayer. He tuned her out.

"Could you ever love me?" he half-whispered. Her head snapped up, and the anger in her eyes scorched him.

"Never."

Her words felt like a stake through his heart, but it was no less than he expected. He took a deep breath.

"Well, then," he said, his trademark smirk back on his face. "We'll just have to change that, won't we."

He pulled a stake from his back pocket and hurled it at Drusilla. She barely had time to scream before it found its mark, buried in her chest. She looked down at it and looked back up at Spike, a look of intense betrayal clear on her vampiric visage. She exploded into dust, and the stake dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. Spike was slightly surprised to find that he felt no remorse.

He looked back at Buffy, whose eyes were wide and confused. Spike smiled slightly at her.

"Now," he said softly, stepping back to her and cupping her face in his hand, "this will only sting for a moment, love."

He tipped her chin to the side and buried his fangs in her neck, relishing the sweet taste of her blood. It was beyond doubt the finest he had ever had. Infinitely better than the other Slayer's. A whimper escaped Buffy's lips, and Spike consciously pulled back a bit, still drinking her but not harming her much. She struggled, but he held her still, pinning her head against the wall.

He could feel her starting to slip away, her life force giving out. He pulled his fangs out of her, his vampire face giving way to his human face. He dug one of his nails into his wrist, and blood began to flow. He held his wrist up to Buffy's lips and, supporting her head with his other hand, coaxed her to drink. She resisted slightly, pulling away.

"Ah, ah, ah, love," he chided, holding her head more securely. "You want to live, you'll drink." She'd never give up the opportunity to protect Dawn, he knew. And judging by the look on her face, that was exactly what she was thinking, too.

A small whimper came from her lips, and she gave in, pressing her lips to his wrist and taking in his blood. Spike grinned around his fangs. He pulled away after a few minutes, wiping his blood from her chin. She was already blacking out, giving way to unconsciousness again. He took the small silver key from his pocket and released her from her chains, picking her up gently and setting her on the sofa he kept downstairs. He grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and covered her with it. She looked peaceful, almost as though she were in a deep sleep. When she woke up, she would be a vampire, like him. The thought made him smile.

 _This should be interesting._


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy's eyes opened slowly, blinking in disorientation. Spike had carried her upstairs into his room and laid her on his newly acquired bed, which he had covered in tasteful black silk sheets. Spike, sat up at her awakening, carefully searching her eyes so as to be forewarned of the panic she was certain to feel.

Turning the Slayer was quite a gamble, he was aware, but he felt it was a good decision. This way she would be with him, and he would teach her the ways of the undead. She didn't have to kill, something Spike knew she would be averse to. He would help her fight the cravings and show her how to still do good, even though she had become a demon like himself. She would reject it at first, of course, but she would come around eventually.

She sat up slowly, looking around her. Her vampiric face was showing, and Spike saw her raise a shaky hand up to feel the ridges in her brow. The hand travelled down to her lips and sought out her pointed fangs. Buffy looked at Spike, sitting attentively in his chair a few feet away.

"What did you do?" Spike was surprised to hear no fear in her voice. Disbelief, certainly, perhaps horror, but not fear. He supposed it was the demon side of her—he hadn't been afraid to find that he had become a vampire when he was turned a century ago. He felt only the raw power inside of him, a swift change from the cowardly nancyboy he had been prior to his reawakening as a demon. The evil in Buffy's blood was unafraid of what she had become, although Spike was sure whatever humanity she had left in her was unnerved. Spike could only imagine the power Buffy now possessed—if she was strong as a human, what had turning her into a vampire done?

"Easy now, love," he said, slowly getting to his feet. Quick movements could be detrimental to his remaining human-shaped. "It's a bit of an adjustment, but it'll be alright."

She was doing remarkably well for a newly-turned vamp; most panicked a little at first, unaccustomed to the extra senses and strength. Then again, she was probably used to that.

He sat at the edge of the bed, slightly relieved when she did not move to harm him. "How do you feel?"

It took her a moment to answer him. She looked up at him.

"Hungry."

He chuckled. "All in good time, love. I know you're wanting human blood—I don't blame you—but for your own peace of mind I think we'd best stick to animal." He got up and crossed the room to a small black minifridge, pulling out a package of blood. He retrieved a mug from the top of the microwave that stood not too far away and poured the blood into it. He could hear the eager growl Buffy gave, and he chuckled again. He put the mug into the microwave and started it. _Thank God for electricity in this place. Couldn't very well go over to old Rupert's and ask to borrow his kitchen._

After a minute the microwave dinged and he pulled out the mug of now-toasty blood, stirred it, and walked back over to the bed. He handed the mug to Buffy.

"Take a sip, love. It'll help with the disorientation too."

She sniffed at the mug a bit before taking a dainty sip. She processed the flavor for a moment before taking a larger sip of it, downing the whole thing in a few more seconds _. Who knew. Even as a vampire, she's adorable._ Spike held out his hand and took the mug from her, setting it down on a table next to the bed.

"Better?"

She nodded, looking a little sheepish.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to stake me yet."

She glanced at him. "Thought about it. Then you mentioned feeding me. Thought maybe I'd hold off on dusting you for a bit."

Spike rolled his eyes. She certainly knew how to keep him on edge. He sat at the edge of the bed, maintaining a safe distance away from her. If she could kick his ass before, she could sure as hell do it now. He looked at her face; she was staring at the now-empty mug with a peculiar expression on her face, doubt mixed with confusion.

"This was always my worst nightmare," she whispered. Spike's heart twisted in his chest a bit. He should have known that about her. He felt guilty at what he was doing to her, but the demon inside him was roaring with pleasure at turning a slayer—his slayer. The demon within won out over a guilty conscience every time.

"Is it really so different? Do you feel different?"

Buffy pondered that a moment. "Stronger, definitely. And there's the craving for blood—definitely didn't have that before," she said, frowning. "But… I'm still me, I think. Aren't I?"

"Now you're getting it," Spike said encouragingly. She was coming to grips a lot faster than he had expected; hell, he had anticipated having an enraged slayer to contend with as soon as she woke up.

"You can do whatever you want, love. If you want to hunt humans, I'll give you some pointers and stand back jealously." Buffy chuckled a bit at that. "But if you want to hunt demons, I'm alright with that, too. I'll help you."

Buffy looked at him. "Why?"

Spike raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Why hunt demons? Where you been for the last five years, pet? Kinda fun."

Buffy shook her head. "No. I meant, why are you helping me? Why even bother turning me in the first place?"

Spike looked at her. "You know why."

Buffy looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. Spike sighed; she was still going to take some persuading before she came around, demon or no.

"Anyway, pet," he said by way of changing the subject, getting to his feet. "We'd best think of a way to tell your friends and the Little Bit."

Buffy's face fell. "Dawn. Oh, God." She buried her face in her hands. After a moment, she looked back up at him, panic written on her face.

"She's going to be terrified. What if she's afraid of me? What if—"

Spike clapped his hand over her mouth, cutting off her babbling. "Sh, love. She'll be alright. We'll talk to her first, go to your friends after. Something tells me the Little Bit is going to be the most understanding." It was true; Dawn had always been more accepting of him than the others, and vampire or not, Buffy was still her sister and obviously still cared for her. He was sure Dawn would see that. It appeared Buffy had kept a rather lot of her humanity. A lot more than most demons. "Alright?"

Buffy nodded, and Spike took his hand away, though he could see that she was still freaked out. He cautiously reached out and petted her hair, marveling at how soft it was. She never let him get this close when she was human. He pulled away grudgingly. _Best not risk dismemberment._

* * *

Spike walked Buffy to her house on Revello Drive as soon as the sun had set, trying to calm Buffy down the whole way. She tried not to let him see her anguish, in typical Buffy fashion complete with false bravado. She looked terrified, and Spike had to fight the temptation to put his arm around her in comfort on the walk there.

"I swear, I can smell everything," she mumbled under her breath. "I think that guy on the next street over mowed his lawn today. How do you stand it? It's like my senses have gone bananas."

Spike shrugged, taking out a pack of smokes and his Zippo. "You get used to it, I s'pose. It all starts to become a bit more natural." He lit a cigarette and took a drag before noticing Buffy's wrinkled nose. She glanced at the cigarette dangling from his mouth and turned away, a sour look on her face. Spike sighed, tugging the cig from his mouth and tossing it into the street. _Girl's gonna take away all my bad habits._

The rounded the corner of her street and made their way to the front steps, Buffy's step noticeably slowing the closer she got to the door. She raised her tiny fist to knock, then hesitated. Spike stepped past her and loudly knocked three times.

"It'll be okay, pet," he quietly assured her. Buffy was very glad that her mother was out of down for the next week or so.

Dawn answered the door only seconds later, her worried look quickly replaced with relief.

"Spike, Buffy, thank God. We were worried," she said, stepping back to let them in. Buffy started for the door and halted abruptly.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked at her confused sister, gapping at Spike for an explanation. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Erm, Bit, you the only one here?"

Dawn nodded, still looking confused. "Yeah, why—"

Realization hit the younger Summers sister as she took in the fact that her sister hadn't entered the house.

"Oh," she said quietly. Spike saw the tears well up in her light blue eyes, though she put on a brave face.

"Come on outside to talk, Little Bit," Spike said, stepping aside to let her out. "It's alright," he assured her at her conflicted look. He glanced at Buffy, who looked on the verge of tears as well.

After a moment of hesitation, Dawn stepped out of the house, pulling the door shut behind her. Spike led the Summers girls to the steps and sat, pulling Buffy into his side gently. Far from looking pissed off, Buffy looked up at him in gratitude.

Dawn was silent for a few moments before asking, "How?"

Spike thought for a brief moment; Dawn was his biggest fan in Sunnydale, to be sure, but he wasn't entirely positive that she would take the news that he turned her into a vampire well. A slight fabrication to the story couldn't hurt at this point.

"She was attacked last night," he lied easily before Buffy could say anything. "Vamp apparently got his jollies making the Slayer a demon. I got him, but not before he turned your big sis." He was surprised at himself; he almost felt badly for lying to Dawn, especially about something so important. _Little Bit's had enough of people lying to her._

"Has she…" Dawn cleared her throat. "I mean, Buffy…are you, y'know, hungry?"

Buffy shook her head. "Spike gave me some blood when I woke up," she whispered, clearly unable to find her voice. Dawn looked at Spike for confirmation. He nodded once.

"Leftover pig's blood I had in the fridge."

Dawn looked at her older sister. "Are you okay?" Buffy choked out a laugh and looked at Dawn with something resembling amusement. Dawn grudgingly smiled.

"Okay, dumb question."

Buffy shook her head, still laughing slightly. "I've been worse. This… isn't as bad as you'd think. And Spike said he would help me not hunt humans." Dawn looked appreciatively at Spike at this news. Spike was glad he had made that promise; it might help him to not get staked. And it certainly made Buffy feel better about the whole thing.

Dawn looked back at Buffy. "Have you told Willow and Xander yet?" Buffy shook her head, slightly vigorously.

"No, we came to you first. Wil and Xand… I'm not sure they'd understand." Buffy looked afraid at this. As strong a person as she was, she loved her friends. Spike was sure she was afraid they would try to stake her. He wasn't entirely certain she could fight her friends if it came down to it. He could, though, if it meant protecting her.

That was best left as a last-ditch attempt. Buffy would likely not want her best friends slaughtered, as much as he would thoroughly enjoy torturing the welp.

Dawn sighed. "This could be tricky. Why don't we wait until tomorrow." She stood, then offered her sister her hand to help her up from the concrete steps. "Come on, come on in. Spike, you're invited too—I think Willow put a revoking spell on the house." Spike rolled his eyes. Figures.

Buffy sat cross-legged on her familiar bed in her room. Dawn had insisted she stay in the house throughout the night.

"It's your house too. And you totally don't scare me," she said as she reached into the refrigerator for a cold slice of leftover pizza. Buffy had tried to argue, not sure she trusted herself in the house with Dawn, but the younger Summers sibling was stubborn as ever.

Spike sat in a chair near the bed, having promised shortly after the debate to watch over Buffy to make sure nothing happened to Dawn. He wasn't sure what Dawn expected—Buffy had always been a bit of a nocturnal creature even before becoming a vampire—but it seemed to make her happy by having Buffy nearby.

He glanced at Buffy, who was absent-mindedly picking at a stray thread on her sheets.

"That went a lot better than expected," he said dryly. She looked up at him and gave him a slight smile.

"Not that I expected much less of the little bit."

Buffy nodded and resumed looking down at her comforter. Spike sighed.

"Alright, Pet. What's going on in that noggin."

Buffy looked back up at him. She looked as though she were going to ignore his question, but seemed to think better of it. "I don't know. I just… Xander isn't going to understand. He's going to try to dust me. And Willow will be afraid. And I don't even want to think about what Giles will say." She paused.

"And then there's the thing with you. And I have no idea what that's all about."

Spike cocked one eyebrow. "'The thing with me'?"

Buffy gave him her 'Oh, come on,' look. "You know. You turned me. You dusted Drusilla. And I'm not sure I really understand why."

Spike looked at her. He wasn't sure now was the best time for this conversation, but then, Spike wasn't really known for thinking ahead.

"You know why, pet. I told you. Can you honestly tell me now that vampires can't love? Even after looking at Dawn tonight?" Buffy didn't reply. After a moment, Spike spoke again.

"I'm not asking you to love me right away, Buffy," he said quietly. "All I'm asking for is a chance."

She looked at him, anger obvious in her eyes. "You turned me. You took away my life, and now you want me to give you a chance."

There it was. Spike had been expecting the anger all evening; he figured she was in too much shock for it to register before now. He looked unapologetically at her.

"I turned you. I wanted you that badly. What are you missing out on? It's not like you had much of a life outside slaying. And who knows—maybe your powers have increased with the extra demon blood in you." Not that the thought had occurred to him beforehand. Turning her had been an impulse; he had only thought about making her be with him. Spike was sure she knew that.

"Look," he said as she opened her mouth in retort. "We can fight about this tomorrow. Dawn's in the next room, and she still doesn't know I was the one who sired you."

Buffy glared at him a moment more, then nodded, albeit grudgingly. "Fine. But we **will** talk about this tomorrow."

Spike sighed. It was going to have to be the best he could do.

"Fine. Just try to get some rest." Spike settled back into his chair. Buffy grudgingly snuggled underneath her bedcovers and turned away from him onto her side. Spike resisted the urge to touch her back, the muscles of which were shown nicely underneath the tank top she had changed into. He gritted his teeth. _You asked for it, mate._

After a few moments, remarkably, he heard Buffy's breathing slow and even out. She had been through a lot in the past several hours; Spike supposed it shouldn't have surprised him that she was tired again. He allowed himself to relax further in the chair, until he could feel himself begin to doze, too.


	3. Chapter 3

Spike was awakened sometime around three AM to the sound of whimpering. Immediately he was up from the chair in which he slept and he glanced at the door, assuming the noise had come from Dawn's room next door. He was surprised, then, to hear it again from Buffy's lips.

She lay in bed with her hands balled into fists, the sheets tangled up around her ankles. A look of fear was written on her face. It looked like one hell of a nightmare, and knowing the dreams Slayers often got, he was sure it was horrific. Spike approached her and laid his hand on her shoulder, shaking her slightly.

"Wake up, love," he said softly. He shook her again, slightly harder. "Buffy. Buffy, wake up!"

She snapped awake and shot her fist out so quickly Spike didn't see it coming. She caught him square in the cheekbone and he heard it crack. He backed off, scowling slightly.

It took Buffy a moment to realize she was awake. She looked down at her hand as though wondering what had happened, then looked at the welt growing on Spike's cheek, which she could see clearly in the darkness. An embarrassed look formed on her face.

"Sorry," she mouthed. Spike felt the mark gingerly, wincing slightly. T _hat definitely hurt more than usual._ He smiled at her.

"S'alright, love. It'll heal." He sat down next to her on the bed, careful to mind his distance in case she was feeling jumpy. "You alright?"

Buffy nodded slowly, the tension in her posture escaping. She sat in a slightly hunched position, hands in her lap. "Just a bad nightmare. It's fine. I get them all the time."

"That one looked a little worse than normal." And he would know, though he didn't want to clue her in as to how many times he had watched her sleep. "Want to talk about it?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I just want to forget about it." She turned over on her side and lay down, back facing him. He nodded, though she couldn't see him, and stood, making his way back to the chair.

"I dreamt I attacked Dawn," she said abruptly, almost whispering. Spike raised his eyebrows and came back to the bed, sitting back down in the same spot.

"Buffy." His voice was stern, and she turned her head back to look at him. Spike could see she was on the verge of tears.

"It seemed so real," she whispered, choking on the last syllable.

"Pet, you could never hurt her. You love her too much. That kid's still safer with you than with anyone else on the planet." Buffy looked slightly cheered by this.

"When I had just been turned, I still loved my mother. I had lived with her at the time, and she was frail and weak. I took care of her as much as I could. And when I was turned into a vampire, I wanted to turn her, too. So she could be strong again."

Buffy, unsurprisingly, looked startled by this information. Spike nodded, understanding. At the time, it had seemed perfectly acceptable. The only people he had cared for that much at the time were his mother and Drusilla, and he would have done absolutely anything for either one of them.

"Becoming a vampire doesn't necessarily make you completely evil, love. You still have feelings. You can still love. And you do still have self-control. You'll gain even more with practice." He daringly reached across and touched her cheek, grazing his thumb lightly against her jawbone.

"You won't hurt Dawn. Worst comes to worst, I'll stop you if you try. Deal?"

She looked most comforted by this promise, and nodded.

"Thank you, Spike." She turned back over, nesting her head into a pillow that didn't look like it had any substance to it, it was so soft. He got up again to make his way into the chair. Bloody thing was uncomfortable after a few hours.

"Spike," he heard her mumble, though she sounded half-asleep already.

"Yeah, love?"

Buffy scooted over to the opposite side of the bed, moving a good foot and a half away from him. "C'mere. Stay with me?"

If his heart could beat, it would have jumped right out of his chest. Not wanting to give her time to change her mind, Spike strode back to the bed, kicking his combat boots off and removing his duster. He slid underneath the heavy comforter and laid his head on the pillow next to Buffy. Miraculously, she snuggled back against him. Her body was the same temperature as his now, cool as marble. He tentatively put a hand on her hip and held her against him. _Stop that, now_ , he told his loins, which had stirred at the sight of Buffy's rock-hard body so close to his. Rock-hard, but still soft somehow. She was strong, but she still had feminine curves that made him stare. He pushed the thoughts away; Buffy needed him now. Sane Spike, not shag-Buffy-senseless Spike. If he played his cards right, there would be time for that later.

He had a vague feeling he would regret this in the morning, but Spike held Buffy, hoping he could at least help with the nightmares. Within seconds they had both fallen back asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike awoke before Buffy did, just a few minutes before dawn. He made sure the curtains were drawn securely on the windows and washed up in the bathroom. Dawn was still sleeping as well; he could hear her snoring down the hall.

After retrieving his boots and duster from the bedroom, he went down into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee for the girls after making sure the windows were securely sunlight-free. Upon glancing in the refrigerator, he realized he had the makings of a couple of decent omelets there. _What the hell,_ he thought. _They think I'm crazy anyway._

Soon the eggs had been whisked to perfection and added to a hot frying pan with cheese and green onions, glasses of orange juice were on the countertop waiting to be claimed, and bacon was frying on the stove. Spike's ears picked up the sound of Dawn coming down the stairs; he knew it was Dawn because Buffy didn't _thump_ quite so much.

"Ooooo… bacon," Dawn said appreciatively, her nose twitching at the smell. She raised her eyebrows at the sight of Spike in the kitchen, a black apron on and a spatula in his hand as he flipped the bacon. He looked down at himself and was grateful that the apron had at least been a dignified color. He scowled at Dawn.

"What? I like this shirt. No need to get eggs on it." Dawn rolled her eyes.

Spike popped some bread into the toaster and pulled the bacon off the stove to drain onto paper towels. "Mind waking your sister?"

"Sure." Dawn bounded into the other room, hopping up the stairs two at a time. Spike thought for a moment and realized he probably should have warned her to be careful—Buffy was a bit on the testy side—but shrugged it off. Dawn would know to be gentle-like, and Buffy wouldn't hurt her anyway.

Several minutes later the girls came downstairs as Spike was plating the omelets. He looked up to see Buffy still in her pajamas, though it looked as though she had brushed her hair and teeth. _Fuck, she's beautiful_. He noticed the smirk on Dawn's face and realized he had been staring. He cleared his throat and finished putting the plates on the table, then pulled out chairs of the girls.

"Why, thank you, sir," Dawn jokingly said, immediately grabbing a slice of toast from a plate in the center of the table and buttering it. Buffy looked less comfortable, but took the proffered chair in silence. Spike sat next to her. It had been a long time since he'd had a proper breakfast; he was just glad he hadn't burned the eggs.

Buffy took a bite of her omelet and looked surprised.

"This is good." Spike rolled his eyes. _What was she expecting, burnt eggs flavored with cyanide?_

"Thank you," she said, almost as an afterthought. Spike nodded. He glanced at Dawn, who had nodded along with Buffy's thanks. He suspected she would have thanked him, too, if she hadn't had half an omelette in her mouth. She settled for giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He chuckled under his breath.

"Anything fun going on in school today, Dawn?" Buffy asked her sister. Dawn gave Buffy a look over her glass of orange juice and rolled her eyes. Spike supposed Buffy was simply attempting to make some kind of normal conversation.

"Of course not. It's school. Their motto is, 'No fun here.' What about you? Doing anything today?" Dawn wiped her mouth with the back of her and received a look from Spike, who handed her a napkin.

"Well, I suppose I'd better call Giles," Buffy said hesitantly. "I'm not sure if I should tell everyone as a group or individually." She worried her lower lip with her teeth anxiously, a trait Spike found particularly endearing. For a vampire, she was certainly extremely human in her mannerisms. Spike wondered if she would ever show the fact that she was a demon; she was naturally more inclined to act human. Spike wondered what she would be like if she let her demon take over—surely she would be more powerful than he could even imagine, though he would certainly never push it. He wanted her happiness more than anything. He put the thought from his mind for now.

"Might be better to meet with them individually, starting with the Watcher," he chimed in, taking a bite of toast. Buffy nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Yeah, that might be best… if I can convince Giles I'm not looking to feast on the local townsfolk, I can convince everyone else." She made it sound offhanded, but Spike was sure she was worried what her Watcher would think.

"Call 'im, invite 'im over," Spike suggested. "We can all talk then." Buffy nodded.

Dawn finished her food and stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in complete ignorance of her napkin again. "Okay, algebra awaits." She looked at Buffy. "Be careful?" Buffy nodded, still looking out of sorts. Dawn cheerfully grabbed her school books and left.

Spike sighed, grabbing the dishes from the table and placing them in the sink. Buffy silently picked up a few more plates and carried them to the sink, immersing them in bubbles. Spike noticed that she seemed much quieter when Dawn wasn't around. He supposed she was putting on a brave face for little sis.

They washed dishes together silently. Buffy seemed reluctant to realize they were finished. She picked up the phone with a sigh, dialing Giles' number. He picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" Spike heard him say distantly on the other line.

"Giles. It's me."

"Buffy, thank heavens. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry I worried about you. Um, I have some . . . news. Can you come over?"

"Certainly, Buffy, I'll be there straight away."

"Thanks." Buffy hung up without saying goodbye. She worried her lower lip with her teeth again.

Buffy wandered to the living room and sat delicately on the couch, Spike taking the seat next to her. Giles only lived a few minutes away, which may have been a good thing: Buffy would only have to be on edge for a couple of minutes. Spike felt certain that Buffy would be fine so long as her Watcher accepted her. And if it killed him, Spike would make sure that happened.

Giles knocked on the door a few minutes later. Buffy called for him to come in, as she couldn't answer the door for fear of being burned by the sunlight. Giles saw them immediately and seemed instantly suspicious of Spike's presence. He kept his words to himself, choosing instead to sit opposite Buffy.

"You sounded a bit… well, concerned, on the telephone. Is everything all right?" Giles asked his Slayer, obviously being as gentle as possible.

"Um. Well, I have something to tell you. You're really not going to like it."

Giles was silent for a moment. "Buffy, you know I'm here for you. Anything you need." And this was why Spike tolerated the Watcher. He loved Buffy.

"Well, I had a . . . a b-bit of a problem yesterday. Patrolling." Buffy was so nervous she was stumbling on her words. Spike took pity upon her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders despite Giles' alarmed look.

"Look, Watcher, she's scared stiff. So any comments you have, keep them to yourself," he began harshly. "The Slayer's been turned into a vampire."

It at first did not seem as though these words had registered in the Watcher's mind. He stared at Spike, then Buffy, before looking at Spike again. His mouth opened and he did not say anything for a few seconds. He seemed to come to his senses and snapped his mouth shut, though he kept staring.

"How did this happen?" he finally asked shakily, looking at his Slayer. Buffy opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it, glancing at Spike for assistance. The elder vampire could see tears welling up in her eyes.

"Vamp attacked her, caught her off-guard," Spike lied easily. "She happened to be near my crypt when it happened, I heard the fight. She hasn't hurt anyone." Giles looked at Buffy as though for confirmation, and the Slayer nodded in agreement with Spike's story.

"I . . . well, Buffy, are you all right?" Spike was pleased that Giles' first words were not inquiring about his Slayer's new feeding habits, but instead about her mental health. Tears finally came forth from Buffy's eyes, and she moved—more slowly than she was capable of doing—off the couch and into Giles' arms. The Watcher seemed alarmed at first, but then embraced the blonde girl warmly. Spike pushed down the jealousy.

"All right, Buffy, it's going to be all right," he said soothingly. "Have you fed?" He managed to keep any hardness from his voice, still soothing. Buffy shook her head against his chest then pulled back, settling back onto the couch.

"Spike is helping me. Not to feed. I had animal blood last night, and I stayed in the house last night, with Dawn." She looked guiltily at her Watcher. "I didn't want to talk to anyone."

"Have you told the others?"

Buffy shook her head. "Just you and Dawn. Giles, I want to be good. I don't want to hurt anyone. And this . . . thing. Inside me. It scares me. It's like it wants me to go out and hunt someone. But I don't want to."

"And you shan't." Giles took a handkerchief out of his pocket and cleaned his glasses. "I must say, I'm a little unprepared. To the best of my knowledge, the turning of a Slayer . . . well, it's simply never been done before. Far too dangerous. But it seems you've kept a rather lot of humanity, despite being a demon." He sighed. "I'm not quite sure what expect. I shall have to—"

' _Consult my books'_ Spike thought dryly.

"—consult my books."

Buffy nodded. "I still have to tell the others. I don't know . . ."

"Why don't you wait for me," Giles suggested. "Willow and Tara have a tendency to be a bit more open-minded, and I'm sure it will pose no issue for Anya, but Xander can be . . . er . . ."

"Xander," Buffy finished for him.

"Well, yes, precisely." Giles stood. "In the meantime, I suggest you stay here. I shall bring the others over after sunset. Try to control yourself," he added. "I imagine it will be very difficult, especially the first few days. A vampire's first instinct is to feed, and you've been suppressing that instinct. The demon inside you will get used to it, given enough time. Look how well Angel did."

"Angel had a soul. I don't." Buffy's face lit up a little. "Do you think, if Willow wanted to give it a try . . . do you think there's a spell that can give me a soul?"

"Perhaps. I'm not quite sure—Angel's situation was vastly different from yours, but it could be that the same spell can be used to give you your soul back." Giles leaned in and kissed Buffy on the forehead. "Take care. I'll be back later."

Buffy and Spike stood clear as Giles opened the door. As he left, Buffy turned back to Spike.

"Is it true, what he said? Do you think I can eventually suppress the demon?"

"It's possible, pet. Not too many vampires have tried it. Even without the chip, though, I think I could go without human blood if I wanted to. The blood is a craving that eventually goes away. I think maybe what your demon wants the most is violence."

"Violence I can do, so long as it's the good kind."

Hours later, Dawn came home to find them on the couch watching T.V. and sitting rather comfortably close together.

"Hey, guys." She nodded to the television. "This all you've been doing all day?"

Buffy glanced sardonically at her sister. "Did you know there's nothing to do during the daytime unless you can go out in the sunlight? I'm going to get fat." She glanced at Spike. "Can vampires get fat?" Spike chuckled. "At any rate," Buffy said with a sigh, "I'm going to have to find some sort of hobby. I think I watched more T.V. in one day than I normally watch in a whole year."

Dawn shook her head at her older sister. She swung her backpack onto the living room table and began to take various school books out of her bag. "Did you talk to Giles today?"

Buffy nodded. "He took it really well, actually." _Explains the good mood_ , Spike thought. "He and the rest of the gang are coming over tonight after sundown."

"Well, that's good. That way if you need to run away from anyone, you can at least go outside." Spike shot her a look. Dawn looked at him, oblivious.

"What?"

Spike shook his head. "Everythin' is gonna be **fine** ," he told the girls fiercely. Neither one of them bothered to reply. No one really knew how the evening was going to play out.

To occupy herself, Spike assumed, Buffy set about cleaning the kitchen—something he had never even heard of Buffy doing—and then helped Dawn with her homework. It seemed, Spike discovered, that Buffy was rather good at math. He was interested to learn this fact about her, something that didn't have anything to do with Buffy as the Slayer but more to do with Buffy as a person. He wondered what other things he could discover about her. It wasn't like they didn't have the time on their hands. He resolved to ask her about herself later, craving more information about who she was.

After homework, which, thanks to the help of her older sister, Dawn completed in record time, they broke out the board games. Spike was content to simply watch, but Dawn begged him to play a game of Life with them. Spike rolled his eyes but was happy to join in. He was pleased to see that Buffy was sufficiently distracted from her worries about the upcoming meeting with her friends, and Dawn seemed pleased that her sister finally had the time to spend with her. _This could all work,_ he thought.

At about seven thirty they all noticed the sun start to descend and the white circle of the moon began to show itself. Buffy looked apprehensive, but continued to play board games with her sister. When the sun set completely and it was dark outside, Buffy's concentration went away from the game. Spike was proud of her; she had not cried and she was dealing with her fear rather well, as though it were a mission she had to face. Not long after sunset, a knock came at the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Dawn got up quickly to answer the door. "Come on in, guys," she said cheerfully. Spike wasn't sure if Dawn failed to see the direness of the situation they were in, or if she was simply putting on a brave face in an attempt to convince the Scoobies there was no danger. Knowing the younger Summers sister's intelligence, he guessed the latter.

By the looks on the gang's faces, Giles had already filled them in, to a degree. Willow looked close to tears, Tara hovering behind her in an attempt to offer comfort. Xander, predictably, looked furious. Anya's expression was entirely indifferent.

Buffy stood as they entered. "Hey, guys," she said, softly but firmly. The group kept their distance, clearly worried about the danger Buffy may impose. They didn't say anything for several moments. Spike stayed close to the Slayer, in case anyone was to attempt to attack her.

"Oh, please," Dawn finally piped up. "She's been in the house with me all day. There's not a scratch on me."

"Inviting vampires into the house, especially vampires as strong as Buffy and Spike, was probably not the best idea, Dawn," Xander said through his teeth. Dawn scowled at him.

"You didn't see her," she insisted. "She doesn't want to hurt anyone."

"So she says!"

"Now, Xander," Giles stepped in. "It may be that Buffy has kept enough humanity to not want to harm humans. I spoke with her this morning, as I told you-"

"And I'm sure she seemed about as dangerous as a bunny," Xander cut in. Anya whimpered slightly, now looking worried. "At some point, you guys are going to have to realize: these demons that take over? They're not our friends." He pointed at the Slayer. "That's not Buffy in there." Buffy flinched, and Spike barred his teeth at the boy. Xander wisely look a step back.

"Actually, Xander, that's not entirely true." Anya stepped closer to Buffy, unafraid despite the fact that she was no longer a demon and couldn't hold her own against the Slayer, much less the Slayer-turned-vampire. "She's still in there. She still has Buffy's mannerisms. She's still Buffy. There's just a demon residing in her now." She peered at Buffy as though she could see a physical change in her without the vampiric distortion upon Buffy's face. "Are you stronger?"

"I'm not really sure. I haven't really tried out my strength or anything yet."

Anya whipped her head back to glance at her boyfriend. "See? A normal vampire would have gone nuts with the killing already. I think you're right, Giles—she's still kinda human."

Spike could see that Buffy was happy with this news.

"Well, are you, y'know . . . gonna bite us?" Willow asked hesitantly. Buffy shook her head.

"I don't want to hurt anyone." Xander scoffed and was quickly elbowed in the ribs by Anya. The rest of the group seemed satisfied, however.

"Well, I consulted my books. As far as I can tell, no Slayer has ever been made into a vampire before, although I am requesting more research materials from my contacts in England." Giles said, moving around the group to have a seat on the couch. The rest of the gang followed suit, looking slightly more at ease than they had been previously. Buffy and Spike sat as well, still leery. Only Dawn seemed completely untroubled, absolutely trustful of her sister.

"So, basically, this is going to be an entirely hands-on experience." Buffy sighed.

"Well, yes. I really don't have anything to go on," Giles admitted.

"I guess we'll just have to see how it goes," Buffy said softly."Wil, that spell you cast for Angel, to restore his soul. Would that work on me?"

"Hm. I'm not really sure. I think it should." Buffy's face brightened at this. "I'll take a look into it," the redheaded witch said. Buffy nodded, grateful.

"Any more news of Glory?"

"More people being admitted to the psych ward at Sunnydale Memorial—two were sent there just last night," Willow said. "But other than that, she's being pretty low-profile for a Hell-god."

Buffy nodded. "I think maybe I should patrol tonight." She looked at Spike. "Will you come with? Keep an eye on me?" Spike nodded. "'Course."

"Uh, maybe not the best idea? Considering he would love nothing more than to hunt if he weren't so, y'know . . . neutered?" Xander chimed in.

Buffy looked at him, obviously getting annoyed. "And, what, **you** want to come with and stop me if I lose control?"

"I think all of us together could—"

"Get stomped to pieces," Anya cut in.

"Spike promised to keep me from hurting anyone," Buffy said firmly. Xander rolled his eyes, but declined comment. He seemed to be the only one to have a problem with it; everyone else had taken Buffy's turning in stride. Spike wondered if they had all thought about the possibility of Buffy becoming a vampire at some point. They seemed very calm, all things considered.

"All right then," Buffy said as she got to her feet. She pulled on her coat and grabbed a stake from a table in the living room. "Dawnie, get to bed at a decent time? And make sure you lock the door." Dawn nodded.

"I'll look into that spell for you, Buff," Willow said.

"Try not to kill anyone," Anya added in what she seemed to think was a helpful way.

"Thanks," Buffy said dryly.

She and Spike exited the house, the Scooby Gang following suit. Buffy made sure she heard the lock on the front door click before she headed off toward the nearest of Sunnydale's many cemeteries with Spike.

"Well, that went a lot better than I expected," Buffy said cheerfully. "No dusty Buffy."

Spike snorted. "I don't think they could have taken you, love."

"Honestly? Not sure I could have fought them," Buffy admitted.

"I would have. The welp was working on my very last nerve."

"Xander's just being cautious," Buffy defended her friend. "And he's right. They probably shouldn't have let me live."

"I wouldn't have let them touch you."

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Spike wondered if he had said too much. It was true. Regardless of the pain he would have endured, he would have stopped her friends from harming her. He suspected she knew that.

"So, how are you feeling?" he asked to break the silence. They were making their way over to a new grave; the deceased had been buried earlier that day and the obituaries stated that he had died from puncture wounds to the neck: obvious vampire attack.

"I'm alright, I think. My hearing seems a lot better. I can hear the spider that's over there." She pointed a few yards away. Spike raised his eyebrows—even his hearing wasn't that good. He couldn't wait to see what other enhanced abilities she had.

They sat down on the grass near the new grave, stakes in hand, to wait for the newest vampire to rise. Buffy sighed.

Spike raised his eyebrow. "Something on your mind, pet?"

Buffy shrugged one petite shoulder. "I don't know. This all feels weird. I should be upset, you know? Being turned was my absolute worst nightmare. It's all I ever thought about right after I was called. And now, it just doesn't seem so scary. Which, somehow, makes it scarier." She sighed, frustrated. "Maybe I'm not explaining it right."

"No, I get it."

"And what makes it all worse," she continued, "is the fact that I should hate you."

Spike paused. "But you don't?"

"I don't know. You've tried to kill us so many times. I can't forget that." Spike nodded, expecting this. "But at the same time . . . why did you turn me?"

Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. "Because I had hoped that if I made you a vampire, you would want me. Because we would be the same then." There didn't seem much point in telling her anything but the truth.

Buffy was silent.

"Look, pet. This is a big mess. And I know it's gonna take a while for you to learn to trust me, let alone love me." He paused again, trying to find the words to express the big jumble that was his brain. "But I can be a good man." To her credit, Buffy didn't argue with his phrasing. She couldn't see him as just a monster anymore, not considering what she was going through. The affection she still felt for Dawn and her mother and friends was proof enough that maybe her perceptions of vampires hadn't been quite correct.

"So . . . maybe, we can start by being friends," she said slowly.

It wasn't quite what Spike wanted, but he'd take it for a start. "Friends," he agreed.

A hand exploded out of the earth covering the new grave by which they sat. They both hurriedly climbed to their feet.

"About damn time," Buffy muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

The new vampire pulled himself from the ground and looked up, surprised to see two strangers standing at the foot of his grave. He looked around at the earth surrounding him, still encasing his legs.

"Uh. Gimme a hand?" he asked them.

Buffy rolled her eyes and offered her hand to the newbie, pulling him out of the ground effortlessly.

"Thanks," the vampire said. His face morphed into the disfigured mask of the demon within him, and he lunged.

Buffy dodged with inhuman speed, then pulled back with a punch of her own. Spike saw her face change as well; even as a vampire, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on. Her speed had definitely increased, and the punch she landed on the face of her opponent looked like it had given him whiplash. Spike almost felt sorry for the bloke.

"What the hell?" he asked Buffy. "We're on the same side."

Buffy grinned toothily at him. "Guess again." She advanced, arms up in anticipation of the next attack.

The new vampire tried to swing at Buffy again, only to find that connecting a punch was going to be insanely difficult. Buffy backhanded him and he went sprawling. Spike expected her to stake him then, but it seemed Buffy was enjoying the fight. She waited for the vampire to get up and continued her assault.

Spike leaned up against a headstone with his arms crossed, content to watch her. She was like a panther in her movements, entirely sure of what she was doing. He watched her kick the new vamp several yards away, stalking after him for her next attack. The bloke looked like he was about ready to run away.

"Pet, maybe you should think about staking him, hm?" Spike suggested. Buffy pouted slightly, but staked the vampire.

"Woah. What a rush!" Buffy said, coming to join him by the headstone he was leaning on. "That was definitely . . . a lot more exhilarating than it was before."

"It's the demon," Spike explained. "Demons were made for violence. You'll crave it." At the crestfallen look on her face, he laughed. "Don't worry about it, love. Violence follows you everywhere anyway."

"True," Buffy said, nodding slightly. A snap alerted them to another presence in the cemetery, and they rounded a corner around a mausoleum- almost walking into a demon in the process.

The demon was about seven feet tall, humanoid, and pale green in color. It had two short horns atop its head, long claws, and a face only a mommy demon could love. It turned to look at Buffy and Spike, pausing momentarily before going after Buffy. It raised its arm to swing at her, but she kicked it squarely in the chest, forcing it to take a step back. One step back, however, wasn't enough to deter it from attacking again. Buffy's face shifted again, and she growled at the demon. The demon stepped forward and grabbed her before either she or Spike could do anything, raising her above its head and throwing her several yards away.

Buffy got to her feet, obviously stunned. Spike had taken over assault of the demon, throwing a punch at it and immediately recoiling in pain. Spike shook his hand, swearing loudly; the demon felt like it was made of iron.

Buffy pulled a short knife from her belt and rushed the demon again, snarling as she approached him. Spike held the demon in place and she rammed the blade home, deep into his torso. The demon growled at her viciously, but was far too injured to fight. Spike released his hold on it and it dropped to its knees before slumping to the ground.

Buffy was panting, breathless from the impact of being thrown to the ground. Her chest was heaving as it filled with unnecessary breath, and her lip was bleeding slightly. She was the most beautiful and deadliest creature Spike had ever seen. Without thinking, he strode forward, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

He felt her freeze, surprised by the gesture. After a second, to his utter disbelief, she was kissing him back. He could taste the sweetness of her blood from her wounded lip, though that was furthest from his mind. He marveled at how soft her lips were, the ferocity with which she kissed him. _I've been staked and gone to heaven._

He pulled away after a moment and stared at her, astonished. He knew her cheeks would have been red if blood still flowed in her veins.

"Um," she said, wiping at her mouth. "Well."

"Yeah," Spike sighed, still stunned.

"Well, we'd . . . we'd better get going." Buffy turned and walked the opposite direction, picking up the knife she had dropped. Spike smiled slightly and followed her.

* * *

"Four vamps and a demon," Buffy said, taking her coat off. "That's a little excessive." She hung her coat on the hook near the door and locked up. It was about two AM, and they had finally decided to go home after finding various vampires roaming around.

Spike hadn't missed that she had been ever more quiet than usual during the remainder of their patrol. He wondered if kissing her had been a mistake, then decided he didn't care. He wouldn't have traded anything in the world for that kiss, even if that was the only one he ever got. He also knew better than to push her about it right now, when she was so worked up from patrolling. Best give it a bit. It was with this in mind that he refrained from saying much, kicking off his boots so as not to damage the carpet and shrugging off his duster.

Tara was asleep on the couch in the living room, sitting straight up. The television was still on. Buffy smiled slightly and went to her, moving her gently into a laying position and covering her up with the blanket that was kept on the back of the couch. She turned the T.V. off.

Buffy led the way upstairs, leaving the lights off so as not to disturb Dawn, who appeared to be in bed. Spike knew from the lack of snoring coming from her room that she was still up, waiting to make sure her sister had come home safely. He saw from the look on Buffy's face that she realized this, too.

"Dawn, I'm fine," she called softly as she ascended the stairs. "Go to sleep. Love you."

"Love you too," came the slightly muffled sound of Dawn's voice behind her bedroom door.

Buffy and Spike went into Buffy's bedroom, where Buffy opened the drawers to her dresser and took out gray pajama bottoms and a black tank top.

"I need to go take a shower," she told Spike, looking slightly uncomfortable at the idea of being naked with him in the house, even behind closed doors. He had to admit that this caused a reaction in him, which he desperately tried to hide from Buffy. She turned and left the room without waiting for a response, and he growled in frustration, trying his hardest not to imagine her petite body nude and soaked with water. He tried to think of something else, pushing the image from his mind. It was hard enough to control himself, without adding images of Buffy naked, which turned into Buffy naked with _him_. His pants had become uncomfortably tight.

While she was in the shower, Spike glanced around her room, something he hadn't had the chance to do before. It took his mind off less pristine thoughts. There were many pictures on her dresser of her friends and family, including one with her and a man he could only assume was her father. He noticed that the room was mildly girly, surprising for a Slayer. There was a bookshelf in her room, though there weren't many books on it. Mostly classics that he was sure she'd had from her younger years at the behest of her parents: _Romeo and Juliet, Pride and Prejudice,_ although there were a couple new ones. _Might have to get her to read a bit more, now she's got the time during the day_ , he mused. He noticed another book on the shelf and pulled it. The cover was plain brown, and upon opening it he noticed handwriting in it. His eyebrows rose; this was clearly Buffy's diary. Checking the dates written there, he found that it was several years old, dating back to 1997. Curious, he took it to the bed and sat, opening it to the first page, dated September 1997.

 _I can't believe I'm so nervous about being back in Sunnydale,_ the first line read. _I know I'm freaking out. Last spring with the Master shook me up. I'm trying not to let my friends see, and I'm especially trying not to let Angel notice._ Spike's nostrils flared slightly at the mention of his sire's name. _Everyone expects me to be this strong person. I'm not. I want more than anything to be normal. I don't know how to deal with this._

A few weeks later _: I can't believe this. First, Parent-Teacher Night. Obviously wasn't going to go very well, thanks to the slaying that takes up almost every waking hour of my life. Then, to make matters worse, a new vampire shows up in town, and not just the average kind. Seriously strong and dresses like a Billy Idol wannabe. Giles says he's serious bad news, and Angel knows him. He's not very old, but he's already killed two Slayers. Honestly, he really scares me. He's not like these other vamps—he's not predictable at all, he's adaptable, and when I fought him tonight he might have killed me if my mom hadn't walked in and smacked him with an axe. My mom, of all people! Gotta hand it to her, though. For all the momishness, the woman's a badass._

Spike's eyebrows had been raised throughout the entire paragraph. He's had no idea he'd scared her—she seemed infallible in her bravery. He was slightly surprised to find that he was upset with himself for frightening her. He had no regrets about killing the other Slayers—it was who he was, and the Slayers had loved the fight just as much as he did. But the thought that he frightened Buffy. . . it bothered him. He wanted her to trust him. He chuckled a bit, though, at her vernacular; he could almost hear her saying the words, in her teenage-speak. Her handwriting was large and stylized. Very Buffy-ish.

He flipped a few more pages, finally settling on one several months ahead. Angel's name had caught his eye again.

 _Ms. Calendar's gone. Angelus murdered her. I don't know what to do. Giles is absolutely heartbroken, and it's my fault. If I had staked him when I had the chance, none of this would have happened._

That was all there was to that entry. Spike felt his heart tug, recalling when that had happened. Looking back on it, Spike realized that she had been just a kid. No child should have had to endure what Buffy did. She had been close to the Niblet's age when she had been called; he imagined Dawn fighting vampires day in and day out, and shook his head sadly. He admired Buffy's strength and her courage all the more for it. He knew she survived so well because of, and for, her friends and family. She had matured in both her mindset and her fighting abilities.

His sensitive hearing picked up the sound of the water shutting off and the shower curtain being dragged back. Spike hurriedly rose from the bed and placed the diary back on the shelf, being careful to put it back exactly how it had been lest Buffy realize he had moved it. They may have been on good speaking terms, but Spike had a nagging feeling she wouldn't think twice about kicking his ass if she knew he had been prodding through her things _. Best not tell her about the stolen panties then_ , he though with a smirk. He sat back down on the bed, awaiting the Slayer's arrival.

She came in about a minute later, clad in the pajamas she had grabbed earlier. Her hair was wet from the shower and slightly unkempt, and she had no makeup on. Her golden skin still glowed somehow, though it was paler than it had been when she was human.

She looked glorious.

She looked at Spike sitting on the edge of her bed, clearly uncomfortable. She toyed with the ends of her hair absentmindedly.

"Look, pet," Spike said before she could say anything. "I'm sorry about earlier." He wasn't—not by a long shot—but he knew that she wouldn't come near him if she were uncomfortable around him. The kiss they had shared had been astonishing—and she had kissed him back. Spike wanted to feel it again. So, patience. Hell, he had stayed in a wheelchair for months to outsmart Angelus; waiting for Buffy a little while longer would be no more difficult. Theoretically. Angelus didn't have astonishingly glorious breasts.

She looked slightly more relaxed at his apology. She moved further into the room and sat on the bed next to him, still keeping her distance. Spike noticed that her muscles seemed less tense than he had ever seen them in his presence.

"So, uh," he said awkwardly. "I can sleep on the sofa tonight, if you'd like." He silently screamed at himself for suggesting it; the absolute last thing he wanted was to be on the couch, away from Buffy. He could behave himself if necessary. But he wanted to make Buffy comfortable, and if that meant staying away for a night…

"No," she said softly. "That's not necessary. I can't. . . I don't want to be by myself." She looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "As long as you can behave," she said pointedly. Spike nodded. Buffy pulled the covers back and settled into one side of the bed, making enough room for him on the other. He gratefully climbed under the comforter with her, still fully clothed. Buffy noticed this and smirked slightly.

"You know, if this is going to be a normal thing, we really oughta get you some PJ pants." She giggled slightly, a noise that took Spike by surprise. He found that he loved the sound.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, unable to keep a slight smile from his lips.

"You in PJs." She giggled again, shaking her head. Spike rolled his eyes.

"Maybe some manly sweatpants," he said, pretending to scowl. Still chuckling, Buffy rolled onto her side, back facing Spike.

"Goodnight," he heard her whisper.

"Goodnight, love," he said. He listened to her breathing, which quickly became slow and even. When he was sure she was asleep, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her gently against his chest before falling asleep with her.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to post! I'll be updating more frequently, hopefully. Keep the reviews coming!


	7. Chapter 7

Spike woke suddenly and was startled to find that Buffy wasn't in bed. He glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed, which told him it was 7:45 AM. He groaned. _Bloody hell_. His keen ears heard the front door shut downstairs. He heard Buffy's quiet footsteps ascending the stairs, and quickly she was back in the bedroom.

"Dawn was leaving for school," she explained. "I never noticed how loud she is before."

"Your hearing's better now," Spike said sleepily, stifling a yawn. His eyes half closed again as Buffy crawled back into bed. Unthinking, Spike snuggled up next to her. He woke a bit more when he felt her freeze, and backed off.

"Sorry, pet," he said, giving her a few inches of room. She didn't say anything. Spike stayed on his side of the bed hesitantly.

"Did you hold me the whole time?" Buffy asked quietly after a moment.

"Yeah."

She didn't say anything, and after a few seconds Spike gave up and closed his eyes; they had only been asleep for two hours. Several minutes later, his eyes snapped open when he felt her scoot her body back to press against his. She still didn't look at him. He silently marveled at the way her body felt pressed against him.

"Shut up," she added, before he could say anything. Smiling slightly, he did as she asked, and went back to sleep.

At nightfall, Buffy and Spike made their way across town to Giles', making a detour into the cemetery to do a quick sweep. They had left Dawn and Joyce, who had come home after her first trip for work since her surgery, with Xander. Spike had gritted his teeth at the cold way Xander had regarded Buffy, keeping his fantasies of ripping out the whelp's internal organs to himself.

The conversation with Joyce had been much smoother than anyone had anticipated. After giving her the story Spike had come up with, Joyce had seemed slightly stunned at first, but then noted the people in her house.

"Well, obviously, you haven't hurt anyone," she had said matter-of-factly as she bustled about the kitchen, putting dishes away. "I'm just glad you're safe." Buffy gaped at her, then shook her head. Maybe it was the fact that Joyce was so used to Spike, but her mom was being shockingly cavalier about all of this. Buffy had expected screaming and crying, at the very least.

Dragging her thoughts back to the present, Buffy noted the aura of annoyance surrounding Spike. "Relax," she said after several minutes of his silent fuming. "He's right to be cautious."

Spike looked at her in exasperation. "You haven't **done** anything," he half-exploded, clearly indignant on her behalf. "Not one sodding thing, and he's acting like you've murdered someone's children."

Buffy shook her head, but dropped the subject. She understood Xander's reaction, although she certainly didn't like it. It wasn't as though they had never trusted vampires before, and it almost always blew up in their faces. And to have a vampire as strong as she was, with her additional Slayer powers… she could empathize. She would have been wary, too.

She had made it a point, thus far, to avoid speaking of the previous night. She wasn't sure why she continued to allow Spike to sleep in her bed. She felt safer with him there, she supposed. And although she wasn't prepared to admit it, she was terrified of being left alone—what if she got up and attacked Dawn in the middle of the night? Spike hadn't asked about it, and she sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up. Things had been getting way too awkward recently as it was. She remembered the kiss they had shared—the feeling of his lips on hers, his strong body pressed against her, the way his hands tangled in her hair as he—

 _Gah! Stop it!_

Having walked the cemeteries, the pair headed back toward the main part of town for one last sweep before calling it a night, though it was still early. They headed past the Bronze and, upon detected nothing more unusual than some blonde in an outfit that should have been burned sometime in the 70's, headed for home.

A brunette girl came up to Buffy, headed into the Bronze.

"Have you seen Warren?" she said. Buffy blinked.

"Uh…no," the Slayer replied. The brunette girl looked disheartened, but nodded and strode past Buffy and Spike, making her way into the packed Bronze. Buffy and Spike glanced at each other in confusion before shrugging slightly and continuing on their way back to the Summers residence.

Climbing the stairs silently, Buffy checked in on her mother before heading into her own room. A small smile formed on her face as she saw her mom sleeping soundly—an odd enough sight recently. It seemed she was feeling better; Buffy hoped that the cancer was completely gone now. At least one thing was finally going right.

Buffy hesitated as Spike followed her into the bedroom. It seemed odd to her to tell him to sleep elsewhere, especially considering the last several nights. And he has been a perfect gentleman thus far (an oddity, considering this was Spike.) Gnawing her lip slightly, she glanced at Spike and decided that he could stay in her bed again. She glanced down and noticed her jeans.

"Um… close your eyes," she said, keeping her voice quiet so as to not wake the other residents of the house. Spike looked slightly puzzled, but did as she asked without question. Buffy quickly slid off her jeans, aware that he could hear the zipper, and grabbed her pajama bottoms, yanking them up to her waist. She stripped of her shirt and grabbed a plain black tank top.

"Okay, I'm good," she said, climbing into bed. Spike turned around and got into bed with her. Buffy frowned.

"You know, I think I might have some of Riley's old lounge pants…" she trailed off as she saw the scathing look on Spike's face, now so easy to see in the dark. She had momentarily forgotten how much he despised Riley. "Well, it would be more comfortable than your jeans," she muttered, aware that she was grumbling. She heard him chuckling softly.

"I'm fine, love. They're well broken in. Besides, if I got too uncomfortable, I could just strip down to my boxers—you sleep so heavily you'd never notice," he added cheekily. Buffy felt her face flush at the idea of Spike in her bed wearing just his underwear, though she didn't dwell on why it should bother her.

"I'm not that heavy a sleeper," she mumbled under her breath. Spike chuckled.

"Right. You **intentionally** talk in your sleep."

Buffy blanched. _Oh no_. "I _so_ don't talk in my sleep," she argued, slipping back into her Valley-girl way of speaking. Dawn had told her once or twice that she mumbled in her sleep, mostly about vampires and, when she was in high school, Angel. She hadn't thought it was still an issue, though. "What did I say?"

Spike grinned at her obvious discomfort. "I don't think I'm much inclined to tell you," he said, smirking. Buffy scowled at him, punching her pillows into a more comfortable position. Spike lay next to her, and Buffy noticed that he did not scoot closer to her. _Good. I have no idea what happened last night, but it is_ _ **not**_ _happening again._

"Night, Buffy," Spike murmured softly. Buffy didn't reply.

Half an hour later, Buffy still had not fallen asleep. Spike's snores permeated the air. Buffy groaned. She was so tired. She listened to his snores for a moment longer, and then scooted closer to him, her back resting against his solid body. _Much comfier._ She slipped quickly into sleep.

Still unconscious, Spike smiled.

* * *

"BUFFY!"

Buffy bolted upright out of a dead sleep, jumping out of it a nanosecond later. It was light outside, probably early morning. Dawns sobbing was very clear. She raced out the bedroom door and downstairs, following the sound of Dawn's gasping cries.

At the bottom of the stairs, she froze, registering Joyce's cold stare as she lay, motionless, on the couch.


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy's mind went blank. Her legs would not move. She was vaguely aware that Spike had come down the stairs a second behind her. His sharp intake of breath registered in her mind.

"Buffy," Dawn whimpered. It was that sound that snapped Buffy to her senses. She darted forward and onto her knees, shaking Joyce and opening her eyelids, checking for any sign of life she could find.

"Mom," she said urgently, giving Joyce a shake. Buffy heard a slight crack as she did so—Joyce's shoulder had come out of its socket. Buffy froze, horrified.

"Nibblet, call 911," Spike said softly. Dawn scurried to the phone and Buffy heard the sound of the buttons being pressed. Spike kneeled next to her. He looked at Buffy.

"Don't you look at me like that," she said harshly. Spike sighed.

"Pet, she's been dead for a while. CPR wouldn't even help right now. She's—"

" _No_!"

Spike opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, desperately praying that this was a nightmare from which she would soon wake up. She could hear Dawn's shaky voice in the background on the phone with the responder.

"Yes, I just found her . . . um, yeah, I'm by myself. She looks like she's been… gone awhile." Buffy's heart clenched; her sister was too young to have to be dealing with this. _So am I_ , Buffy thought bitterly.

Buffy got to her feet slowly. She dragged a blanket off the back of the couch and covered Joyce—she refused to think of it as 'the body'—with it. She heard Dawn hang up the phone, and peeking outside she saw an ambulance. It was broad daylight—there was no way she and Spike could be here when the paramedics came in. She looked at Dawn, who understood immediately.

"Go upstairs. They think I'm by myself." Buffy didn't move, too frozen in place to get her legs to cooperate with her. Spike put his arm around her, gently tugging her in the direction of the stairs. Buffy allowed herself to be moved, her eyes welling up as she was half dragged out of the living room. She reached out her hand to squeeze Dawn's as she passed her sister.

Spike got her into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. The sound of the ambulance sirens could be heard outside, and Buffy heard Dawn open the front door to greet them. She clenched her eyes shut. Spike maneuvered them into a sitting position onto the bed, his arm still around her.

"I should be down there helping Dawn. Not hiding in my room."

"Nothing we can do, love," Spike said, softly but firmly. "You can't save everyone."

Down came the tears. Buffy leaned against Spike as she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. Spike stroked her hair, holding her to him. He remained silent. Better for her to let it out; she internalized an awful lot. More than people seemed to realize.

A very soft knock came on the door. It creaked open slightly, and Dawn's frightened face peeked through. Buffy looked up at her sister, quickly wiping away her tears. The younger Summers sister entered the room. She was as pale as a vampire and looked stunned, but surprisingly calm.

"The paramedics took Mo—the body," Dawn said, stumbling over her phrasing. "She… she was pronounced dead on the scene. Something about rigor mortis. I called Giles; he's on his way." Spike nodded, getting to his feet. Buffy did the same and wordlessly exited the bedroom. Spike put an arm around Dawn, hugging her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he heard her sniffle. He didn't have any words of comfort to offer Dawn; he had lost his own mum, sure, but he was the one who killed her in the first place. He had no idea what Dawn and Buffy were going through right now.

"I just froze. I didn't even know what to do," Dawn whispered, looking completely lost. "I mean, we've talked about CPR in school. But I didn't even think to try that."

"Not your fault, pet," Spike said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "I don't think there was anything you coulda done to help your mum." Dawn was silent, though Spike could feel her shaking and sniffling.

"Come on, NIbblet. Let's go see about big sis."

Dawn pulled away and made to turn away before stopping to look at him, seeming unsure of herself.

"Do you think Buffy hates me?"

Spike's eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would she hate you, Nibblet? Buffy loves you." Sometimes the elder Summers sister completely baffled him with the way her brain worked, but the fact that she loved her little sister more than anything was the one thing he was absolutely certain of about her.

"Because," Dawn said, "I didn't save Mom." Tears welled in her eyes and she tried to blink them back. Spike put his arms back around her.

"It wasn't your fault." Dawn said nothing. "Hey, look at me," he commanded her. She raised her head up.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated firmly. "I don't think even Buffy could have saved her, pet. She's been sickly for a while now. It was just her time to go." Spike wasn't sure he believed in fate, but it seemed like the thing to tell Dawn, and perhaps Joyce had always meant to die an early death. "Buffy loves you more than anything, Nibblet. Don't you dare ever doubt it." He held eye contact with her pointedly until she nodded.

"Now come on. I don't want to leave Buffy too long." Dawn nodded and went with him down the stairs, where they saw Buffy standing across the room, away from the windows. Dawn went to her and Buffy wrapped her arms around her little sister. The two embraced without saying anything for several moments, allowing Spike to be a bystander to their grief. A knock came on the door and Dawn went to answer it.

Giles came in, with Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya following trailing behind him. Willow immediately went to the Slayer's side, wordlessly hugging her. Xander followed, although he did not embrace Buffy, which irritated Spike. Tara hugged Dawn, and Anya seemed to have the sense—for once—not to say anything.

Giles approached Buffy, whose eyes welled up with fresh tears. The Watcher held open his arms and Buffy launched herself into him, bursting into sobs again. The older Englishman held Buffy and simply let her cry.

After several minutes of silence, with the exception of Buffy's soft sobs, Buffy sniffled and pulled away from Giles, looking slightly embarrassed at the show of emotion.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Giles offered her a soft smile. "That's quite alright. We're all a bit shocked."

"Should we be . . . I don't know, preparing?" Willow asked, sounding unsure.

"Well, I should think that we would all like a bit of time to grieve before making, erm, preparations," Giles replied, removing his glasses to clean them. "I say we all take some time today to gain our bearings and we can all work it out tomorrow. Alright?" he asked, looking at Buffy. The Slayer nodded, looking grateful. "And there's the matter of the authorities. I expect they'll be calling shortly to discuss things."

"Oh, o-okay," Willow replied, nodding. "That sounds like a smart thing. Um, would you… like us to stay awhile, Buff?" Buffy nodded again. Xander sighed, almost inaudibly, in exasperation, and Spike shot him a glare. Anya nudged him hard in the ribs, giving him a spectacularly dirty look, and Spike found himself appreciative of the ex-demon.

Not thirty seconds later a knock came at the door, announcing the presence of the police officers who had come to investigate. Dawn and Buffy (who was carefully yet nonchalantly avoiding the sunlight that came in through the open door) answered their questions as best they could before the officers gave their condolences and departed.

The gang congregated in the kitchen, all of them temporarily avoiding the living room. Dawn and Tara sat at the counter, where Dawn gently leaned against Tara. Tara smiled a small smile and stroked Dawn's long hair comfortingly. Xander helped himself to the orange juice in the fridge while Buffy put a kettle of water on the stove to make tea. She kept herself busy while the water was heating, putting away dishes and wiping down counters. When the water was boiling she prepared the tea for Giles, who thanked her with a small smile. Buffy sat at the table at last, and immediately wished she had something else to clean.

Spike took the chair next to Buffy wordlessly. Several minutes passed in silence. Finally, it was obvious Dawn could no longer handle the lack of conversation.

"Does anyone want to go around and say something nice about Mom?" she blurted. She immediately looked abashed at the suggestion.

Giles looked at Dawn gently. "Er, well," he stammered, not sure that was a wise idea so soon after Joyce's death—it hadn't even been two hours yet since the girls found her— but not wanting to hurt her even worse than she already was by telling her so.

"I think that's a great idea, Dawnie," Buffy said suddenly, quietly. "Why don't you go first?"

"Um, okay. . ." Dawn paused, thinking hard. Then she lit up, a momentary devilish grin that quickly became just a small smile but brightened the room nonetheless. "Hey Buffy, remember that time Mom caught you smoking?"

Spike turned to stare at Buffy, mouth agape. _Prim and proper Slayer, smokin' a fag?_ He shook his head at the mental image. He noticed that Giles was giving her a similar look.

Buffy looked embarrassed. "I was fifteen, and my friends talked me into it," she attempted to explain, abashed at the looks on their faces. "Mom walked into my room as my girlfriend and I were smoking next to the window. It was my first time ever smoking. Mom caught me as I had just lit the cigarette and by the time she burst through the door and opened her mouth to yell at me, I was coughing up a lung and my face was turning purple." Her friends chuckled at her expense. "Once I could finally breathe again, Mom just kinda laughed at me and said 'Well, will you be trying that again?'" Buffy laughed slightly, smiling at the memory. "Obviously, I said no, and asked if we had anything to get the horrible taste out of my mouth. Mom never even yelled."

"That's what I mean," Dawn said excitedly. "Mom was awesome about that kind of stuff. She never really freaked out about anything. Except when she found out you were the Slayer, but, I mean, that's kinda big," she added to her sister.

"I think I know what you mean," Buffy said, nodding. "She could have written a book on parenting. She was gentle with us, and understanding, and still totally down with smacking a dangerous vampire over the head with an axe," she smirked at Spike.

"Mm hmm. So that's my nice thing," Dawn said.

"I've got a thing," Tara said. She blushed. "She gave me relationship advice once."

Willow stared at her girlfriend, who turned an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Remember that fight we got into a few months ago? That girl who kept hitting on you?"

Willow looked embarrassed. "Yeah, I remember her. That was the night I learned that you **do** actually have a temper. I can't believe I flirted back."

"I'm over it," Tara said flippantly, with a smirk. "But when I was still mad, I came and had coffee with Joyce. She reminded me of all the times you showed how much you love me, and pointed out that you were miserable because you had hurt me. She made me remember that we don't have a lot of time . . . and we should cherish our loved ones while we can," she said with a sad smile. Dawn sniffled beside her.

"Oh no, I made it sad!" Tara said fretfully. "Does anyone have a happy thing?"

"She could really swing an axe," Spike piped up helpfully. That broke the tension—the original Scoobies grinned at the memory of a master vampire getting his ass handed to him by a middle-aged single mom.

"She always made me feel welcome, even though I am— **was** —a demon," Anya added. "That was very nice of her. Not everyone was so welcoming." Xander kissed the top of Anya's head.

"Her lasagna was absolutely amazing," Xander said almost dreamily. Giles looked at him, annoyed.

"We're all sharing nice things, things that mean something, and all you have to say is she had good culinary skills?" the Englishman asked, a look of irritation on his features.

"No, no, that's not the **only** thing," Xander quickly backpedalled. "It's just one of the **many** great things about Joyce. The woman could cook." Giles rolled his eyes.

"Well, er, I suppose my contribution also pertains to Joyce's parenting skills," Giles said, taking off his glasses and pulled out a handkerchief. "I always admired the way she took care of you girls. We all know your father was not very forthcoming as far as parental responsibility is concerned," he said, scowling darkly. It was common knowledge among the group that the Watcher did not think kind thoughts about Hank Summers. "Your mother handled it admirably. Particularly after discovering the truth about your, er, identity, Buffy." The group nodded.

"She was awesome when my parents were being jerks," Willow recalled. "I would come over to hang out with Buffy and get away from my house and she would give me a mug of hot chocolate and ask if I wanted to talk about it. I vented to her and Buffy for an hour on accident one day," she giggled. "She always knew what to say."

Dawn looked at Buffy. "What's your thing, Buffy?"

Buffy knew, without having to think about it. "Even when I was supposed to be the one saving the world, she was always the one saving me."

* * *

A/N: This chapter was both really fun and horribly sad to write- it made me think of my mom. Also, I've noticed I'm kinda bashing Xander in this fic- sorry! Hopefully he'll come around. Thank you for reading- don't forget to review!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the reviews! You guys are amazing, and I'm glad a little Xander hate doesn't bother you. This chapter was another fun one to write. Enjoy!

* * *

Buffy watched the sun rise from her spot in a chair in the living room. She had not slept since the passing of her mother two days prior; every time she closed her eyes, she saw the lifeless expression on her deceased mother's face. She had seen hundreds of dead bodies, but none have affected her like the corpse of her mother.

As difficult as it was for her, she could only imagine how much pain Dawn was in. It was Dawn, after all, who had found their mother's body, and Dawn who had spoken with the EMTs. The whole experience must have been agonizing in ways Buffy couldn't understand.

She heard Spike's footsteps—panther-like as opposed to the stampeding sound of Dawn—on the stairs. Wordlessly, he sat in the other chair in the room, and Buffy was grateful that he avoided sitting on the couch. As it was, she was going to find a way to replace that couch as soon as possible.

They sat in relatively comfortable silence, watching the light rays of the rising sun erase the street's shadows.

"I have to go pick out a casket today," Buffy finally whispered. This was the part she had been dreading. She had seen a great many caskets; the thought never occurred to her that she would be forced to put her mother in one. _I guess most people my age don't think about their parent's funerals yet._ She shook off the thought. This was no time for self-pity.

"I can go with you if you'd like," Spike offered. To her surprise, Buffy felt grateful. Spike had become a pillar of strength for her. She tried not to dwell on that weird thought.

"Thank you," she simply said. Spike nodded in response, and they returned to silence.

"Okay. I have no idea what to put her in," Buffy muttered, sifting through her mother's dresser drawers. Everything that seemed appropriate was also unbearably depressing, and Buffy was sure that her mother wouldn't have wanted that.

"Why do you women have so damn many clothes?" Spike wondered aloud from the closet, audibly shoving several hanging garments aside. Buffy shot him a look that he couldn't see and continued on her seemingly pointless search.

As the day had been substantially cloudy, she had been able to go to the funeral home and pick out a casket for her mother, a simple but elegant red cedar one with white velvet interior. As far as something one puts dead bodies in, it was quite nice. Buffy was endlessly thankful for her friends, all of whom had taken time to be at the funeral home with her. Even Xander had gone, although Buffy wasn't sure if that was in support of her or because it was an opportunity to verbally harass Spike without fear of repercussions. Willow and Tara had suggested that Dawn spend the night with them to get out of the house a bit; they were in the midst of watching stupid comedies and gorging themselves on chocolate.

"Wait. What about this one, love?" Spike asked. Ignoring the term of endearment, she turned to look.

Spike was holding out a light pink blouse with three-quarter-inch sleeves. It had been one of Joyce's favorite blouses; tasteful, but comfy.

"Perfect," Buffy said softly. She got to her feet and went to the walk-in closet. It took her less than three seconds to find what she was looking for: a pair of black trousers that she had once told her mom her butt looked great in. She smiled slightly at the memory.

"Okay. Now to find some jewelry." She knew just the piece; her mother had a gold and diamond necklace that she was especially fond of—Buffy and Dawn had gotten it for her as a joint Mother's Day gift several years previously. Neither of them would have any use for it; it seemed only natural that it be laid to rest with Joyce. She strode back to the dresser and reached for the wooden jewelry box, opening the top compartment and drawers in search of the necklace. In the second drawer, that was a folded piece of paper. Curious, Buffy unfolded it.

The paper was from Joyce's stationary, the kind that was kept next to the phone for messages. It was decorated with daisies around the edges, and in the center was Joyce's neat cursive.

 _Buffy,_

 _We have already talked about my wishes, if I should pass away. Rather than talk about it again, I'm writing you this letter. I'm sorry if that seems cowardly of me. Hopefully, the worst is over now, and this note will never be necessary._

 _I want to have a nighttime funeral. Don't worry about people who think it's strange; what's important to me is that my family will be there when my body is laid to rest. And remember: no wake. I hate those things._

 _Know that I love you and Dawn with everything that I am. I'm so sorry that the two of you have had to fight this battle with me. Take care of Dawn. She's going to need you._

 _All my love, forever,_

 _Mom_

 _P.S. The necklace is in the next drawer down._

Tears had fallen on the paper, smudging a few of the handwritten words. Buffy registered that her hands were shaking as she held the letter, but she hardly paid attention.

"What is it?" Spike asked, stepping next to her. She wordlessly handed him the note, attempting to shield her face from his view. Spike silently read the letter. With a defeated-sounding sigh, he lowered the note and wrapped his arms around Buffy, pulling her into his chest. Buffy allowed him to do so with no resistance. Her will crumbled, and again she sobbed in his arms.

* * *

Plans for the funeral went smoothly; a few people had questioned the time of the burial, but none had done so in earnest, and Buffy didn't care enough about their opinion to set them straight. Many people came to bid Joyce farewell, and all who spoke to Buffy mentioned what a joyous and life-filled person she had been. Buffy appreciated their sentiments, but it did little to dull the ache she had felt since her mother had passed away.

When the visitors had all left, Buffy sighed in relief and turned to Spike.

"I think I could use some patrol. You in?" Spike eagerly nodded.

"Dawn, you could stay with us for tonight if you'd like," Tara offered. Dawn nodded her head, and embraced her older sister. Buffy kissed Dawn's brow.

"Have some fun, okay?" Dawn nodded in an attempt to placate her sister, though both knew 'fun' wasn't on the agenda. Willow and Tara both told Buffy to call if she needed anything, which Buffy was grateful for. She and Spike turned and walked away, heading for a nearby recently-filled grave.

They were silent as they strolled through the cemetery. _At least I was already here—wasn't a very far walk,_ Buffy thought morbidly. She was slightly calmed by the prospect of patrol. This, she had control over. She could do some good here.

"So, uh… how you holding up?" Spike asked, with the air of someone trying to make conversation to fill an uncomfortable silence.

Buffy shrugged. "I'm… kind of in shock, actually," she admitted. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I honestly didn't think I would out-live my mom."

No sooner had Spike opened his mouth to respond then a scream pierced the air. Spike and Buffy both took off running after the sound, Buffy far outstripping Spike in her gait. Spike couldn't help but admire her speed.

By the time Spike got to the scene, Buffy had already pulled a vampire off a young girl of about sixteen, who was now cowering against a headstone with an unconscious boy of about the same age. Buffy, meanwhile, was giving the vamp a solid ass-kicking. Though he was eager to join in, Spike stayed back and watched her work. She was most beautiful when she fought, as he knew from experience.

The vamp seemed not to know what the hell was going on, such was the Slayer's speed and strength. When she backed off slightly, the vamp looked at her and noticed her face.

"What the hell, man?" the vamp asked, in a whiny voice. "I would have shared." Buffy uttered a low growl. The young vampire looked at Spike.

"What the hell's wrong with your chick, man? I'm starving!"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Kill him already, love, would you? He's starting to get on my nerves."

"This is ridiculous!" the vamp whined. Buffy drew a stake from her belt and threw it with perfect accuracy at the vamp's chest. His eyes widened before he turned to dust. Buffy rounded on the teenage girl and her boyfriend, who was just starting to come around.

"What the hell are you doing in a cemetery at night?" Buffy demanded. As she came closer to them, she reverted to her human visage. "Do you have any brains at all?" Spike smirked slightly. _She has zero tolerance for stupidity when she's under a lot of stress._

"W-we were just t-taking a walk," the girl stuttered. Her boyfriend groaned and sat up, looking slightly bewildered.

"Take your boyfriend and get out of here," Buffy said. "And if I see you in a cemetery this late again, I'm going to let the next one eat you."

The teenagers scrambled up off the grass, hurriedly jogging away. Buffy shook her head in annoyance. "Teenagers." Spike chuckled.

The pair continued their patrol, silently scanning the cemetery for any sign of demons. Spike noticed they were in a very familiar part of the cemetery.

"I'm feeling a bit peckish, love. Would you mind swingin' by my crypt?"

"Sure," Buffy shrugged. They strode more intently in the direction of Spike's crypt. Spike held the door to the crypt open for her, smirking at the brief look of amused annoyance she shot him. They entered the crypt. Buffy took a look around as Spike lit up the room. He really had managed to fix the place up; it could almost pass for an apartment. Buffy recalled the "Buffy shrine" in the basement. _Maybe that part could go_ , she thought wryly.

Spike retrieved some blood from the refrigerator and poured it into mugs, putting it in the microwave to warm up. He notice Buffy observing the crypt and his chest puffed up with pride slightly. He had worked hard to clean up this dump. To impress her.

"You should check out the basement a little better, love, it's quite posh," he said, interrupting her thoughts. He noticed the look on her face and smiled, a little self-consciously. "I took down all of the pictures. Thought they made you a tad uncomfortable."

"Did you give back my sweater and my underwear?" she muttered under her breath. He smirked. The microwave dinged and Spike pulled out their blood, handing a mug to Buffy. They drank in silence for a moment. Spike curled his lip slightly at the taste; once you had tasted human blood, animal blood just couldn't compare, especially microwaved animal blood.

"I should take you into the woods to hunt," he said suddenly, an idea striking him. Buffy looked slightly startled.

"Seriously, pet. It's fun."

"Stalking and killing defenseless animals is fun?" she asked skeptically. But when she thought about it, it sounded… interesting, at least. Her demon wanted to hunt.

"Give it a go. C'mon."

Buffy rolled her eyes and sighed before setting her mug down and standing up. "Okay, fine."

Spike grinned. He practically dropped his mug down on the table in his haste to grab his duster. He pulled it on and practically pushed Buffy out the door. Buffy couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

"Okay, Pet. Take a sniff. What do you smell?"

Buffy paused, daintily sniffing the air. Her nose crinkled in disgust.

"McDonald's. The nearest one is like a mile away. I'm pretty sure real food isn't that potent."

Spike chuckled. "Okay, yeah. Anything else?"

Buffy closed her eyes and smelled the air again. Her head turned northwest, catching a sweet scent. "I smell something, I'm just not sure what it is."

"Wolf."

Buffy opened her eyes and glanced at Spike warily. "Wolf?"

"Wolves, to be exact. I think I can smell about three of them."

This did nothing to assuage Buffy. Spike caught the look on her face and laughed.

"Listen, Slayer, I'm pretty certain you can handle a couple of wolves." He couldn't help the adoration that, once again, crept into his voice every time the subject of her physical prowess came up. "Come on. Let's go after them."

Spike took off in a sprint, Buffy trailing after him. It had been a while since he had actually hunted an animal—obviously, humans were his preferred meal of choice, and it was rare for a vampire to bother hunting wild game. But he had a feeling Buffy would enjoy it, and it would take her mind off her mum. Not to mention the taste was better than that bagged crap.

They neared the small wolf pack and slowed, quieting their movements. They would have been able to sneak up on the wolves, had a gust of wind not brought their strange scent toward the canines. One of the wolves looked up and growled, immediately sensing the danger. The others stood and faced the vampires, growling. Without hesitation, the first wolf lunged at Buffy, attempting to knock her down. She vamped out and took a giant swipe at the wolf, knocking it to the side with a crunching sound. Spike worked on dispatching the other two wolves, who seemed to be much younger and less experienced than the one currently engaged in battle with Buffy. The wolf immediately got up and lunged again, this time managing to scratch Buffy before she grabbed its neck and twisted, killing it swiftly. Spike quickly broke the necks of the adolescent wolves. He turned to see Buffy delicately drinking from the alpha wolf. Her eyes met his, hazel but tinged with gold. She took another long draught from the wolf before standing and reverting back to her human face, panting and wiping the blood off her lips.

"Well, that was… exhilarating," she said, still catching her breath.

"Yeah," Spike agreed softly, moving towards her. Buffy caught the look in his eye.

"Spike—"

"You're so bloody beautiful," he murmured, now close enough to touch her. He reached out and cupped her cheek, before moving his hand to grasp the back of her head and pull her closer, tugging her against his chest. He heard her gasp and practically purred in satisfaction. He tilted her head up, using his other hand to pull her body flush against his (earning him another _delightful_ sound) before kissing her, softly at first before he became more insistent. His hand traveled down from her waist to her ass, cupping it and squeezing gently, causing Buffy to moan into his mouth. He ground his pelvis into hers, making sure she understood _exactly_ what she did to him. His kiss was almost brutal now, and judging by the noises Buffy was making, she didn't mind much. He pulled his lips away from hers, ignoring her protest, and brushed kisses down her jaw, to her neck, to her collarbone. His hands continued gently kneading her ass. His lips reached the top of her blouse, and Spike's kisses turned to gentle nips at her barely-exposed breasts. Buffy shivered as Spike's hands slowly lifted the bottom of her blouse.

"Spike…" she said hesitantly. Spike ceased his ministrations and looked at her, taking in her anxious expression. He sighed, removing his hands from her blouse and resting them on her hips instead. He tried to mask his frustration as she rejected him. Again.

"What is it going to take to convince you how much I love you, Slayer?" he whispered. Buffy noticed the agony in his voice, and was surprised by how much it hurt her to hear it. She was aware that she no longer despised him, but this was becoming something too close to caring for him. The thought scared her.

"I know you do, Spike," she said softly. And she did. He had proved it, over and over. And she had been wrong to have thought that vampires were incapable of love. The problem was not with him, but with her.

"I'm just not sure I can love anyone else," she confessed. Spike scoffed.

"Bullshit. You're afraid of loving someone else," he said angrily. He closed his eyes and took a breath, realizing that getting pissed off was not going to help anything. It wasn't her fault all her previous men had been assholes. He opened his eyes and attempted to control himself.

"I'm sorry, love." She still looked angry, but at least she hadn't punched him. "I can be patient," he added. "I'll wait as long as you like. Just, please, think about giving me a chance, pet."

Buffy looked at him and saw his sincerity. "Just give me some time to think, Spike. Please." She looked at him. "And maybe a little space," she said pointedly, glancing at the complete lack of space between them. Spike smirked slightly and took a step back, allowing Buffy to adjust her blouse.

"Alright, pet. Time and space. I think I can do that," he said quietly. He was disappointed, but at least she was willing to consider it and hadn't immediately shot him down. "C'mon, we should get back home. I don't think we're going to find any other spooks out tonight." Buffy followed him home in silence, contemplating the dilemma Spike presented her with.


End file.
